


The One Where Aaravos Curses

by welcometothisday



Series: Mirror Mirror... [1]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Endings, Friends to Lovers, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Idiots in Love, M/M, Multiple Endings, Other, Touch-Starved, Written before season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 14:39:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19428025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/welcometothisday/pseuds/welcometothisday
Summary: The one where Aaravos curses a lot more than he should have.AKA Aaravos, the elven mage capable of wielding all six primal sources, befriends a storytelling human reader who isn't a fan of magic.There are two primary endings as sequels. It's your choice of what to see, and of what reality might be.





	The One Where Aaravos Curses

**Author's Note:**

> "Most people believe that reality is truth and appearances are deceiving. But those of us who know...understand we can only truly know the appearance itself. You can never touch the so-called reality that lies just beyond the reach of your own perception."
> 
> -Lujanne, the Dragon Prince

Working as a servant in the castle of Katolis, life was certainly entertaining.

With one mischievous prince constantly stealing tarts and another going everywhere he could to draw, even in some of the more precarious areas that made King Harrow worry. There was also Claudia, ever the prankster, and her brother Soren, who always tried to be the absolute best, for better or worse. Their father was a complicated man. For one, he dabbled in magic, the kind that required sacrifices of a darker nature, such as killing the things he needed for his potions and spells. Some of these were good for the kingdom, such as one terrible winter, but others made the people fearful.

Yet all was relatively calm in a servant’s life in Katolis, for King Harrow ruled well, and ruled generously, kind to even the most ragged of souls. You were one of those souls, a child of travelers. Your hands were scratched and your arms a little scarred. It mattered not though, for you could still clean, dust the walls and small decorations in a room, and best of all? Warm yourself by a gentle, kind fire that sifted through the cold of the night.

For all intents and purposes, Katolis was a sanctuary for you, a place of rest, of peace. Even in the darkest of nights, the stars were a comfort. They always had been. But, it had also been a place of great secrets.

It wasn’t unusual for servants to access the secret passages inside the castle, and Harrow and Ezran knew of them well, better than anyone. So, the servants stuck to the ones that they knew were safe, and occasionally snuck the younger prince some of his favorite tarts away from the kitchen’s supervision.

You were called by one of the other servants to help dust and clean and decided to take one of those secret tunnels, for efficiency’s sake. Arriving in Lord Viren’s rooms, you reluctantly greeted one of the other servants. He was, charming in his own ways, if a little handsy sometimes, maybe even a little unnerving, but you tried not to complain about anything too much. You had a good life here, and you wanted to keep that for however long you could.

The fire was glowing, and its reflection in Viren’s mirror echoed its glow. You’d always felt a little strange about it whenever Viren left it uncovered, which was something he rarely did. The other servant whispered, “Do you think it’s full of magic?”

“Undoubtedly,” you snorted. “Everything the mage owns has at least some of it, in one way or another.”

“Doesn’t that make you, uncomfortable? I mean, have you ever considered what that thing might do?”

You shrugged, humming, “They’re called ‘looking glasses’ for a reason. Who knows, maybe Viren is spying on people. Maybe he’s a voyeur.”

“You don’t think-“

“I’ve learned to expect the weirdest things of people,” you confided, finishing your task with great care. Viren was someone who pretended to be lax sometimes, but everyone knew he had a stick up his over-inflated rear end. “So, I wouldn’t doubt it.”

You hadn’t expected for your companion to suddenly stand behind you, smirking in a manner that made unpleasant shivers go up and down your spine. You asked his name in question, discomfort obvious in your body language and tone. Or at least it should have been obvious.

“You know, we have some time before-“

Please don’t let little Ezran see this kind of thing. He needed to retain some innocence while he was young. But, please do have someone come before this got out of hand. You had to shove away their hand, “No.”

“Oh c’mon-“

“I said, no,” you stated firmly, pushing against his chest. “Leave me alone.”

The flicker of the firelight grew, and you yelped a little when he gripped your wrist, wincing at the harsh sensation. You told him to get away again, but your words were unheeded as hands began to travel on your body. You smelled alcohol pouring off of him. Hissing, you jutted out your foot, intending to get him away. Instead, you found the back of your skull hitting the stone floor with a crack. Your vision was blurring, and you sensed the wetness at the back of your head. You struggled when he put himself on top of you, smashing his lips against yours.

No, you didn’t want this. You didn’t want to be here. Hot, burning tears fell down your cheeks, stinging more when he said he’d be gentle, ignoring when you were shaking your head so profusely. Your vision grew worse, and you could’ve sworn the room went dark. In the corner of your eyes though, you saw markings on Viren’s mirror alight, and you couldn’t see any more after that.

There was a scream.

* * *

Your coworker had been fired. King Harrow had come himself to make sure you were okay, telling you that the one who assaulted you had been drunk, and according to physicians, was stopped from doing anything unseemly. There had been a loose brick in the ceiling, luckily for you.

Firelight edged in your memories, as did the mysterious mirror. You doubted that it was a lucky coincidence, but it was enough for Viren to apologize for what had happened. He watched you though as if searching for something suspicious. Unsure what he could be looking for, you didn’t comment on his behavior. The only time you did talk with him, was when you felt some kind of pull and urge that didn’t feel right.

Afterward, you saw the crushed butterfly in his hand.

Holding yourself, you decided to stay away from the man and his room as much as possible.

Besides, you weren't sure your life would ever be content the way it was if you went back there. Looking at your hands and wrists, you decided that you had enough scars as it was.

* * *

You should’ve known it would only be a matter of time. Months had passed, and Viren was relaxed much more now, not complaining about servants going into his rooms anymore. Unfortunately, that meant as you were one of the primary people in charge cleaning, you had to go to that infernal room.

Trembling, you decided to take the more direct route, making sure the door was unlocked. The fire inside was out, and the mirror uncovered once more. Not even daring to eye it any longer than a passing glance, you made ordered everything straight and as flawless as you could. Breathing, you hesitated when walking past the area where you were assaulted. Looking up, you saw that the brick had been replaced, new plastering affixing everything. In your mind, you could still see a red stain on the stone ground, and couldn’t stop a tear from escaping, nor the hoarse noise in your throat. You covered your mouth in the attempt to smother it.

Walking out quickly, you did your best not to react to the slight shimmering from the mirror’s runes.

Viren didn’t question you later, but he did give a sad gaze in your direction. Seeing how ill you looked, he offered to have another servant take care of his room. You thought for a moment, unsure.

“…I don’t want to be scared. This is my home. I don’t want…”

The mage laid a hand on your shoulder, giving one of his rare, soft smiles. Strange, you thought those were reserved for King Harrow or Claudia. He really should give more of those to Soren. “Take your time, or not at all. It’s your choice.”

You couldn’t help but nod, holding yourself. And so, the first few times, a servant or two, ones that you trusted, would enter the room with you, ensuring to your mental and emotional health best you could. You weren’t unable to keep to the chores yourself, and you weren’t invalid in any way, but having someone there was nicer than being alone in the place someone took advantage of your trust, your vulnerability.

The mirror still made you feel strange. Your curiosity was often dimmed by the bad memories in there, by your fears, but, you also felt anger, wondering why it hadn’t acted sooner, whatever it was. But, it also wasn’t as if you were strong on your own. So, when you were alone, you never confronted it or asked anything, or even talked to it. You always paused on your way out, unable to halt yourself from making some kind of expression, or from clenching your fists. That never stopped you from breathing in a sigh and composing yourself the best you could.

“I can do this. I’m going to be okay…” was what you’d tell yourself, and you would be. And one day, after months of barely even regarding your cautious ways, you paused before leaving for a far different reason, looking back at the mirror with a soft smile. “…Thank you.”

For a moment, the runes on the mirror flickered like the hearth, but you just walked out. It was strange, but you’d learned to accept that there were some weird things in life. Perhaps the mirror just happened to be one of those unexpected stops in life’s journey.

* * *

It was a stormy night when something happened again. You had lingered in the room, startled by the rain and thunder outside, only to grin.

Humming to yourself, you laughed, beginning to dance a little. It reminded you of your travels with your parents. They’d told you that the sky was making music, and that you just had to listen for its harmonies to truly take in their beauty. Of course, one shouldn’t dance around trees in a rainstorm. Lightening itself was beautiful, but it wasn’t something that should be teased seeing as it could burn people to crisps. It was always a small comfort though, seeing as how much you would miss the stars on clear nights.

The firelight went out from a cold breeze, resulting from the heavy storm outside, nearly leaving you in complete darkness. Your eyes adjusted, and you went to go stoke the fire when the area behind you, where the mirror was, lit up. The door was in that direction too. In your head, you began cursing all sorts of foul words you’d never use around the princes.

All you were going to do, was shut your eyes, and walk right past it. At least, that’s what you were planning to do when there was something shimmering, like stars…

This time, you cursed out loud, hurriedly trying to stoke the fire again, stilling when the shimmering lessened. Letting out a breath of relief, you turned around, only to fall onto your rear end with a squeak.

It was an elf. There was an elf in the mirror. It was an elf covered with stars. It was a damned pretty elf covered with stars. As soon as the bastard began smirking, you held up a finger, silently asking for a moment. Then, you walked over to the door, struggling to open it. It was locked, likely since the last cleaning maids made sure it would be. No one wanted to deal with this Dark Magic stuff.

The asshole was amused, laughing at you from what you could tell of the shaking of his shoulders. You raised up another finger and walked over to the painting with a secret door. Wait, how did that doorway lock? There was no lock! Through your fingertips, you felt wind and rain sneaking through the cracks. Great, it was being kept closed by nature itself. Just your luck. Turning, you glared at him and made a gesture to indicate your irritation at him. All he did, was look smug. Folding your arms, both of you stared at each other, seeing what the other would do.

After a while, you sighed. This was Viren’s room, after all, he had to come back eventually, right? Unless he was practicing magic with Claudia again. Shit.

No, he’d still have to come back. His children literally forced him into bed sometimes. Rolling your eyes, you calmly walked over to the fireplace, and made yourself comfortable. The elf was clearly offended. Did he really want the attention that badly? Then again, he might’ve had a hand in saving you. No, he probably did. Groaning, you dug the heels of your hands into your eyebrows, grunting obscenities again. Great, he was amused again. That smirk was evil, pure evil.

Elf, there was an elf in a mirror, and he, or was it a she? It was kind of hard to tell. Anyways, _they_ , wanted you to do things without telling you what. Yeah, no, you were a dumbass, but not that dumb. Right? Hopefully. Fuck.

“…Want to hear a knock-knock joke? I doubt it considering it looks like you’re living in a fishbowl.”

Yay, he wasn’t amused anymore. Best day ever. He made his own gestures, gesturing to his pointy ear and flicking it. Oh, he couldn’t hear?

You began signing (thank you General Amaya), and he just looked confused, great. Looking around, you tentatively took out one of the papers you usually wrote on to make notes for residents in the castle about what you did in specific rooms and began to write your messy scrawl, making it as neat as possible. You didn’t give him your name though since there were stories about names holding power. Some stories, like the ones where elves were supposed to drink blood, were probably fake, but names? Names somehow felt understandable in a world of magic.

He frowned and shook his head. You mouthed, “How long have you been in there?”

He held up his own finger (you had expected the middle one and were glad to have been shown otherwise - wait, didn't elves have only four fingers?), and brought over a table with objects like a cup full of water, and a knife. Your eyes widened, and you started to step back, away from the magic stuff. You'd always been scared of it. He folded his arms, appearing agitated as he gestured to a table near you with similar items as he had. Among them was also a knife, a bowl, and some water. There were other materials as well, including how the room was filled endlessly with books and potion making tools. Mages were demented.

That’s when the elf took out a knife and started to cut himself.

Your eyes widened and you shook your hands, “Wait! Don’t hurt yourself! Whatever’s going on, it’s not worth harming yourself over!” 

Even if he couldn’t understand your words, your worry seemed to convey something, and it was enough to surprise him as you stepped closer to the mirror, as if you could stop him from cutting himself. Your hand was outstretched, attempting to stop something out of your reach, fear not of him, but for him.

He met your frantically worried expression with his confused one.

“Please, don’t hurt yourself.” There was a pause, and his expression had softened, if only a little. This time, he only pricked his finger, showing that the wound healed more easily. You grimaced, making sure your lips were more easily readable. “That doesn’t make it much better. You still feel pain, don’t you?”

There was a pause in his movements, and he breathed out, sighing as he rolled his eyes. This time, you purposely flicked the mirror right where his forehead was. It was almost fun catching him off guard. You didn’t quite understand how magic worked in general, but you did understand from your experience with Viren that there was always a price to pay for something. What if the blood was a price to pay for some kind of communication he had wanted? He had wanted to hear you somehow. 

“For crying out loud, you bloody elves are supposed to live to be centuries’ old, some possibly thousands, and you’re still so damned foolish. What are you even doing this for anyway? What good is there in hurting yourself? Don’t you have someone who cares about you?”

He shook his head, and you tilted yours. "Maybe you should add someone then."

His eyes lit up (literally, the guy was made of stars what did you expect?), and you had the urge to tease him. For an elf that could be ancient, he sure seemed like a kid in some ways. He raised his hand again to cut it, and you shook your head. You really, really didn't want him to hurt, or for you to hurt yourself, again. But, he could read lips. So, you pointed to your mouth.

You greeted him with a "Hello", before saying a nickname of yours, and added, "I'm a dumbass human. Would it be okay if I cared about you?" His expression was hilarious, and you didn’t even try to hide your laugh, "That's a cute face you have, you should make it more often."

Who knew those freckles could sparkle more? It almost reminded you of a blush. Wait, were you technically flirting with someone? Was this flirting? Oh gods, were you flirting with an _elf?!_

There was a clutter of something at the door, and you hesitated, glancing at the elf and his tense expression. He couldn’t hear, but he was able to read your body language. You knew that from the noise that no one could hear you though, sadly, at least unless you called out for them now. 

Frankly, you didn’t quite understand how magic worked in general, but you did understand that there was always a price to pay for something. What if the blood was a price to pay for some kind of communication he had wanted? He had wanted to hear you somehow from all the gestures he was making. The elf could the emotions passing through your expression with every thought, and obviously he was more curious than threatened of what you would do.

You smiled, shrugging, throwing him off as you said, exaggerating your mouth movements, “Are you going to answer the question?”

When he didn’t answer, you shrugged and went to the door to unpick the lock. Take that, smug asshole. There may be a lot you didn’t understand, and kind of did, but you wanted to live while you still could, thank you very much. You grinned as you were finally able to pick the lock, straightening your outfit, and waved at the elf before opening the door. He was blinking in surprise at you, and you paused, glancing out. Thinking for a moment, you took out a piece of paper and wrote music notes on it. 

“When I’ve been trapped in darkness before, music helped. Can you read this?”

He raised an eyebrow, slowly nodding. You smiled and added. “I don’t know much about magic, but I know there’s always a price for everything in life. Until I have a better idea of what you’re selling, and what I’m paying, I’ll bring you songs and stories. I’m a dumbass, and a jerk, but you look like you need a friend. ”

The elf hadn't been expecting that, but seeing that childish grin as he read the music and copied it down from, wherever he was, you beamed. Waving goodbye, you left, wondering when, or how, you should come back. You may be leery of him, but that didn't make leaving him alone okay.

* * *

You entered the room, making sure to shut out all the lights while you waited. Your fingers traced along the braille of your book, allowing you to read and not feel so afraid. Darkness was rarely ever your friend. The mirror turned on after a moment, the elf looking at you curiously, a silent question in his expression.

“I'm reading braille, a language developed for those who are blind or have difficulty seeing. I had family that used it, and so I read it. There’s a lot of literature that people miss on when they don’t try to learn anything new,” you wrote, your smile bittersweet. “I could teach you, if you’d like? You read by feeling the patterns on the page.”

He glanced at the dotted pages, narrowing his eyes slightly. Then, he raised his own pen and paper. However did he learn how to read your language in such a short amount of time? Either he was lying before, or elves were great at everything...Which was probably true. “ _Why help me?”_

You shrugged, “Life is short, time with friends even shorter, but those moments can last forever with the right people. If I die in a war anytime soon, I want to live here and now in these little moments, and when I die, I don’t want you to be alone. It sucks.”

_“You’ve been alone? You have people.”_

You barely maintained your smile, “One can be alone, while still being in a crowd. I wouldn’t doubt it if you’ve seen your share of violence in your time. There are moments where people don’t act when something terrible happens in front of them. People get hurt, we die, and sometimes, there’s no one there to bury us.”

That last part you said bitterly.

_“And you?”_

Shivers ran up your spine as you thought about your future and your impending end. You thought of your family. “My family died years ago." Not a lie. "In the end, I was alone in a crowd of people who didn't particularly care. And, I'm just a servant. So, no, I doubt there’s anyone interested in burying me except to rid of the foul stench of a corpse.”

You weren't exactly important in the grand scheme of things. You weren't a leader, or a warrior, or even someone wise. You were just, you. 

He winced at your blunt candor, changing the subject. “ _You could have told others I was here.”_

Leaning back against a wall a little, you sighed. “And what? They would smash the mirror? Leave you alone for all eternity? Wish to use your power for their own purposes? Beyond that, you still haven’t earned my trust, and you have not been able to do any chaos that I am able to decipher thus far. Call me a fool, but you and I would have more to lose if I tell someone, rather than not informing them.”

The elf was giving you a strange look. “ _You do not seek anything from me?_ ”

“You’re a person, not an object, regardless of what form you take, _”_ you said. “Saying otherwise would be akin to calling a dragon an animal, or a geode merely a rock. There’s more to you than a pretty exterior.”

He smirked, “ _You think I’m ‘pretty’?”_

“You look like stars and have contrasting colors that are meant to catch be eye-catching. Of course, you’re pretty," you elaborated, logically, of course. Seriously, the smug asshole had to know that at least. He had the smile of a charmer, which meant danger. But, you could take a little danger better than some others. “What, you want to strip so I can map out your constellations? Give me a show, pretty boy?”

You actually laughed when he fell out of the chair he was sitting. He gaped, then got an evil, evil grin. “I _s that how you want me to serve you?”_

“Do it and I’ll write all sorts of expletives and phrases on the mirror that you won’t like,” you snorted, not bothered in the slightest. “And if you ever get out, I can show you exactly where to stick them.”

“ _A simple no would have sufficed,”_ he said, trying and failing to frown.

You tensed, “Not everyone heeds ‘no’ so easily.”

The air grew heavy, and you could’ve sworn the elf bore an expression not just of anger, but something of empathy instead of sympathy. _“I do, I would, and I listen.”_

Your smile returned, "I never did properly thank you for saving me. So, thank you."

Something between human and elf felt changed then, and the words flowed more freely. This time when you showed him a song, he took out an instrument and began to play, brows furrowed in concentration. You couldn't hear anything, but you got up and began to dance to the music only he could hear.

At the end of it all, he gestured to objects on a table once more, and you politely shook your head, leaving him with a short written story, and two pages of music. After he copied it all down, you wished each other goodnight, and left.

The next time you went, you gave him lessons in braille, and you showed him some sign language the best you could, all of which you learned from Lieutenant Gren and General Amaya. He struggled a bit at first, due to the fact that he only had four fingers, but you remembered a time where a soldier had lost one of his and Gren and Amaya helped him learn how to sign with those. Fingerspelling was going to be a pain, but for now, you'd stick to the children’s version of sign language. You both needed it, severely.

You weren't quite sure who he was, or what the both of you were doing, but what you did know, was that you liked smiling with him.

* * *

_“You still haven’t asked my name,”_ your friend remarked, his writing practically flawless as always. Meanwhile, yours looked like a child’s in comparison. It was evident in your music notes, and sometimes you felt inadequate because of it. _“Why?”_

Confused, you wrote, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but one of my parents was a storyteller. They told me that names hold power because those a part of us. If you gave me your name, wouldn’t you be trusting me with something more than you already are? That hardly seems fair.”

He tensed, pausing before writing, “ _They_ _were not wrong, but you shared part of your name.”_

Nicknames weren't really part of names, were they? Then again, there's a reason they're called 'nickNAMES'.

“You’re trapped in a mirror as far as I know, _”_ you pointed out, choosing to speak again because your joints were hurting, and you kind of needed them. _“_ And anybody might try to harm or use you while you’re like this. You aren’t helpless per se, but you are at a major disadvantage. I’m trying to give you something without possibly harming others.”

The elf grinned, “ _You are wiser than most, not to trust me, yet.”_

You grimaced, “I can’t tell if you’re insulting me or attempting to flatter me, gives a contrary point to what you just said. And now I worry for those who trusted you too soon.”

The elf didn’t respond at first, and you saw him starting to write out two As. Tensing, you covered your eyes and strictly said, "No."

Reluctantly, you peeked, glad to see he had listened. He had been true to his word. Still, he looked bothered.

Deciding to make him feel a little bit better, you said, "I’m sorry, but I also worry that if you tell me your name, then it would taint the image I have of you. I want to know you, as you are. If you’re in that mirror, there’s a reason, isn’t there?”

He breathed in and out, “ _Most would phrase that differently.”_

“Dumbass, remember?” you snickered. _“_ Without asking me to perform whatever spell you had in mind, out of curiosity and for entertainment’s sake, how would you describe your voice? I think I sound like gryphon. I can’t sing to save my life.”

The elf palmed his forehead, but seemed to consider your words. “ _Can I have some time to think about how to answer that?”_

“Why not? Feel free,” you signed that time, loving his attempt to be irritated. Both of you were learning, which meant practice made close to perfect. “Personally, I think you would sound like a dragon, deep and rumbly. I saw one once when I was traveling. They’re beautiful.”

“ _Are you saying I’m beautiful?”_ You gave him a look which quickly reminded him of a previous conversation. “ _My apologies.”_

Considering his words for a moment, you answered, “Yes, you’re beautiful. Your smile is also pretty cute, especially when you do that blushing thing. Your star freckles light up. Did you know that?”

The elf frowned, then his expression changed as he began writing. “ _What color is your hair? It always changes in the light.”_

You told him, not minding in the least. He evidently needed to distract himself from your comments.

_“And your eyes? You’re always in the shadows, so it’s hard to tell.”_

Really? He can’t be serious. After telling him, you tacked on, “My parents used to joke that I had my grandmother’s eyes, that they caught fire when I get angry, or passionate about something. I don’t know if those words were true, but I wouldn’t doubt it if the darkness wasn’t the only reason my eyes seem weird sometimes."

That was partially the reason they were strange sometimes. So, you weren't lying, right?

The elf made a gesture, silently asking you to step forward. You tentatively did so, feeling as though you were getting close to something that could bite your head off. There was something strange about his presence sometimes as if he had far more power than Viren ever did. In the mirror, you could see part of your own reflection. Guess it really was a mirror, just with more in it. It was as almost as if you were there, right beside him. It was kind of nice to imagine...What a strange thing to think.

He pressed his hand to the mirror squinting as he inspected your features. You had the mischievous urge to kiss the mirror just to see his reaction but decided not to. You respected people's boundaries too much, even with your polar behavior around this maddening elf. Always either completely cautious, or reckless. You wanted to live after all, but you also wanted to thrive for as long as you could.

You glanced at his hand pressed against the glass, and raised your own, stopping just short of touching the surface. You looked to your companion, asking without saying a word. He nodded, and you placed your hand just over his. Both of you spread your fingers, and you examined the bright spotting that was dusting across his skin. You couldn’t possibly imagine what he was so fascinated by, considering that you were a dumbass human like everyone else, you let him anyway for curiosity’s sake.

It was a bit alarming because you felt something through the glass. There was a soft warmth, and you could’ve sworn that you felt _him_ at that moment. It was strange, to touch but not touch at the same time. Smiling, you watched his hand just a bit longer before looking back at him. The elf was staring at you as if you like Claudia did a new spell or book. His eyes were also as soft as his touch. Crap, don’t blush. Don’t blush. DON’T BLUSH!

He chuckled, mouthing, “ _See something you like?”_

Well, best to be honest, “I don’t understand why you are looking at _me_ like I would at you. You're unbelievable, like from a fairy tale.”

His cheeks were twinkling again. There was that small smile that you liked so much too. _“You are a strange one.”_

You both giggled, and you slowly removed your hand. This time when you left, he didn’t make the offer to perform the ritual.

* * *

You were running late for your meeting with your elf. It was bad enough you looked as haggard as you did, but you still had burns on your hands. You were just grateful that you managed to find gloves to hide your wounds.

Careful not to be seen by anyone, you entered the darkened room, trying to remain bright. At first, he didn’t say anything beyond showing some concern that you was late, but his grimace grew worse as your hands continued shaking.

_“What is wrong? What happened to your hands?”_

He was using your name a lot more often recently. It was taking a lot for you to not comment at that, or think about what such behavior could mean. Wincing, you stood up and moved as he asked you to. Then, oh gods, he had a puppy face. Why did he have a puppy face?! He was an elf, and they could be over a hundred years...Wait, he was a startouch elf, so he could be far older than even that!

You shook your head, _“_ Oh, that is just not fair.”

He gave you a stern look, then a pleading one that was different from the puppy one. Frowning, you carefully removed one glove, flinching as you did. He scowled at your bandaged hands and the dark redness that peeked from underneath. His eyes lingered at the bloodstains marking the bandages as well.

Setting down your hand so it was away from his view, you said, “I’m a servant. This is one of the hazards of my job. I’ve had worse.”

You'd gotten it in the kitchen, having tripped over Bait. When you reached for something to grip on instinctual, you burned your hands on one of the hot pans. Prince Ezran had apologized so much, that you gave him a plate of tarts in the attempt to stop his guilt, even snacking them with him. It really had been an accident, and no one was really to blame. 

The elf flicked the mirror right where your forehead was, sending a message without words. _“That doesn’t make it much better. You still feel pain, don’t you?”_

You held your chin thoughtfully, “Never thought my words would be used against me like that before. Still, I’m getting it treated in the morning. I didn’t want to be later than I already was.”

_“Why?”_

“Because it’s nice being around you,” you admitted without thinking. “And I said I would give you the world, and I do my best not to break my word.”

Well, that wasn't exactly what you said, but you wanted to try. He needed to experience as much life as possible, immortal or not. Everyone should while they could.

His fingertips reached for the glass at first, as if he could touch you. His eyes widened upon recalling that he couldn’t. Deep regret set into his features, “ _Please, don’t hurt yourself. As you said, your life is short. Do not make it shorter than it is.”_

You wanted so badly to tell him just how short your life really was. Looking at your hands, you snorted, sighing. Well, your hand was already bloody, so why not?

 _“_ You win," you mouthed, smiling sadly. You hoped he wouldn’t learn the real reason you were doing what you did. “You got someone to care about you, whether you like it or not.”

He gaped at you when you showed no hesitance as you cut your hand with practiced ease, watching the blood drip into the bowl. He watched you skeptically but followed the same. You flinched as he cut himself, frowning at the sight of his wounds. His wounds healed though, and as for you, you winced, hissing as you bandaged yourself best you could.

Crimson decorated the cloth, and you muttered, “Cleaning’s going to be fun with this.” Next thing you knew, there was a bug popping out of his mouth. You tried not to stare, you tried really, really hard not to. “Um, okay? That’s a thing?”

He grinned as he lowered it into the water on his side and it crawled out into yours. To your inner terror, and slight amazement, it crawled onto the table, making some kind of rattling noise in irritation since you had nervously taken so many steps back. Having a feeling of what it was supposed to do, you snickered, reaching out to pet it. Unlike some people, you could handle more than a few insects. It sadly made you the one to typically get a cup and take them outside, but hey, bugs were living creatures too. No need to treat them too badly.

It crawled onto your hand, the up your sleeve. You gasped, giggling at the sensation. Damn it, you were ticklish. It was completely still as you stroked one of its antennae, and you could’ve sworn that the markings on the elf’s cheeks sparkled just a little more. It crawled up your arm, just underneath your sleeve, and you made sure to be very, very still. You giggled uncontrollably as it trailed up your neck, clinging gently onto your ear.

“Hello,” you uttered. “Don’t you think it’s a little rude not to at least introduce yourself before trying to get underneath someone’s clothes?”

“…My apologies,” he said, clearing his throat, the shiny freckles on his cheeks becoming even shinier. 

Oh, that voice was so not fair. He had been an asshole and bastard before. Now? Now you knew for sure this guy was trouble. At least you had managed to make him nearly as flustered as you were. Wait, you could do so much better. You smirked, holding your chin as if you were in deep thought, “Hot damn you’ve got a sexy voice.” Wow, he was so easy to tease. “And the killer looks too. Still doesn’t excuse you being a pervert though.”

His eyes conveyed his annoyance, and slight amusement before his tone turned mischievous. “Did you know your eyes are like gems? They remind me of everchanging amber when put in the right light. And your hair is alluring, adding to your beauty.”

You didn’t believe him for a second. If you did, you might have had it in you to blush. Gesturing to your hair, which was an absolute nest at that point, you asked, “Are you _sure_ you're not blind?”

“Without a doubt,” he assured you, his voice rumbling like low thunder. It was enough to send shivers up your spine. Then, his expression changed, “Thank you, for trusting me.”

“Nah, I think the blood loss is getting to me,” you deadpanned. “Causes one to make horrible decisions. So, please don’t make me wake up and regret having done what I have?”

He touched the mirror, and your hand automatically reached back, “I won’t harm you, and, you should know that I never lie. I can’t.”

Taking that in, your cheeks finally caught fire as you processed his words. He said your name worriedly, as a question, “Are you all right?”

Shit, he said all those things about you and _now_ he tells you he can’t lie? Seriously? Hiding your eyes a bit, you grumbled out, “You...Really are unbelievable.” There was a pause. “You haven’t talked to people in a while, have you?”

How does one make a possible century or older elf, uncomfortable? Easy, by pointing out obvious insecurities. Great job, why don’t you just stab him already? Maybe then he’d feel better around you. His stance shifted. “No, I haven’t.”

“Sorry then, unlike yours, my voice isn’t the nicest to hear. I’ll have to take your little friend here to a music performance some time if you’d like?” you offered. “Haven’t been to one myself for a while. Sometimes I tend to forget the little things too. Really shouldn’t, I know.”

“…You would do that?”

You shrugged, “Why not? It’s terrible being trapped, so why not be free in the ways that we can? I’m fairly sure that you’re finding your own ways of being free, whatever it is you’re doing, but in the meantime, might as well show you what there is to see when you get out, right? Wherever you are that is? Magic is kind of confusing.”

He narrowed his eyes, “I don’t understand.”

You smiled sadly. “Think of it as, a selfish wish I suppose.” It really was. You met his eyes evenly, “Human lives like mine are fairly short, so why not make the most of them? Like I said, I tend to forget the little things. There might even be a war coming soon, so…I want to live while I still can. I’m not a mage, or a warrior, or anything great in the slightest. I can’t make any great change, so why not experience parts of what little world there is left with someone else here with me? Certainly makes things less lonely, don’t you think?”

He grinned, “I look forward to it.”

You would never know how much he truly enjoyed seeing you.

* * *

You remade the small bed you had crafted for the little bug. “Better?”

“I still don’t understand why you do this,” he scoffed, the voice still sounding odd from quite a tiny thing, but also somehow fitting.

“I don’t understand why you don’t understand,” you said, rolling your eyes. You winced, your abdomen aching. “Er, excuse me.”

Racing to the bathroom, you returned after several minutes, pale, your breathing labored. Exhausted, you lay in bed.

“Sorry, guess I ate something bad and...Um, I guess this grosses you out. I’ll shut up now.”

The bug visibly sat up. “Are you all right?”

“I’ve had worse. Just need sleep,” you mumbled, shivering as you huddled in on yourself. “Got work tomorrow morning.”

Your breathing was labored, your forehead sweating heavily.

For some reason, he seemed furious. “You are not well, and you expect me to-”

“Hey, I’ve had worse,” you chuckled, not minding in the least. “You want me to tell you a story? Or sing a song? Think of it as a distraction. It’d be nice about now. It’s, ‘serving’ me, if you will. Does that make you feel better?”

The elf wasn’t pleased in the slightest, but he reluctantly agreed, pulling up a chair for himself. “Amuse me.”

“Sure thing, your highness,” you mocked, causing him to glare. “Song, story, preference of any kind?”

“A story then.”

You indulged him, grateful for his choice.

“Once upon a time, there was a child who was afraid, one who was alone in the world. They had lost their loved ones in a flood, and since that day, they feared thunderstorms. They were scared of anything too bright or dark, anything intense really. One day, a bird appeared, a raven dark as night, and though the child was afraid at first, they heard a melody in its song.”

You recalled the tune your parents taught you, whistling softly, and let the room echo. “Its song was quiet, but they feared it, for the bird only sang in the rain. Yet, the bird never once sang about the rain itself. Instead, it sang about the sun, the Earth, the sky, the moon, and more. One day, the child grew the courage to ask it why it did so. It told them that the sky was the ocean, the stars are the souls and that everyone is one and the same was the sky sheds tears for us. The child didn’t understand, but wanted to. They listened, trying to find the voices, a song, anything that the raven could hear.”

Whistling once more, this time you tapped your fingers rhythmically as if making the pitter-patter of raindrops. “It came to them then. You see, everything’s connected. Few people know that the sun is a star, that the stars are energy, the same energy that lives in us, and that the ocean is a reflection of the sky where stars dwell.

"So when we see lights in the ocean and in the sky, we’re seeing the lights of those we knew, and when we feel the warmth of the sun, and the Earth that it touches, we’re feeling the life and warmth of those who have touched us.”

You hummed, “The ocean is also full of possibilities, memories, and colors of what once was, and what might be, fathomless as the sky, where darkness and light coexist in ways we’ll never understand, and that’s okay. From it comes the rain. Rain is the memories we hold from the ocean that reflects the sky. It’s why the sky cries, at the memories within its reach, good, bad, and everything in between.

"Thunder and lightning are parts of their stories and lives being told. It’s why some of us sing with them, why we dance in rain, because we remember their call, and the longing in our hearts to find the way home.”

Smiling, you said, "So, that's why the bird sings and the child dances, to let those we lost know that we're going to live and be okay."

It was why _you_ danced.

As the bug stared, you giggled, “Sounds crazy, right?”

“...I think you gave me more than I asked for,” he said. “I received a story and a song.”

You clucked your tongue, “Not true. You didn’t get the lyrics, only the melody. That’s the problem, it’s supposed to be a secret. Oftentimes, it’s dangerous not to keep those kinds of things.”

* * *

You laughed as you heard the singers and dancers chanting together. Your elf friend whispered, “You won’t dance with them?”

“I’ve never been a good dancer,” you giggled.

There was a pause. “Would you like me to teach you?”

You smiled, “I don’t know how, considering you can’t hold my hand.” There was a slight tingle in your limbs, and you inhaled sharply. “Uh, what’s going on?" You heard his breath in your ear as there was a sensation of someone taking you by the hand. You swallowed, nervous, confused. “You, you’re not controlling me, are you?”

“You, never,” he said as if he were speaking an oath. “I promise.”

For some reason, a great deal of the anxiety within you faded. “I-“

“Please, trust me? Just this once,” he said, almost sounding like he was pleading.

Who knew someone as powerful as him could sound like that? You shook your head, “I already trust you, just a little nervous. I’ve never done this before. Sorry. Uh, give me a moment to get used to it?”

That earned you a chuckle. “What was it you once said? The number of jokes one could make from that?”

He had remembered one of your previous conversations, one of the small ones. You giggled once more, “Jerk.”

“Dumbass,” he replied teasingly, the soothing tone dulling the harshness of the word. Damn, it was weird to hear someone as regal and elegant as him to say the word, but somehow it was natural considering how you'd been interacting. “May I?”

“Take the lead, fair sir,” you said, laughing, feeling a slight tug on your arms.

Following the motions, there were times where you wondered if you stepped on possible toes or if it was his breath that brushed your cheeks instead of the breeze, but, that was just a fantasy, right? It was a bittersweet experience, to be with someone you could care about, and yet never be with them at all. Besides, what was the likelihood he actually cared about you at all? What were you? Barely a speck in his lifetime? A slight distraction on the side of whatever plans he had? Whatever you were, you were always something to be thrown away and forgotten in the end.

You closed your eyes to conceal your tears as you thought of your future, regardless of what actions he took, and began to sing with the chanting in the background. The hands that weren’t really there tightened ever so slightly, and in the back of your mind saw for a moment there were star-like freckles brightening, and golden eyes searching for yours. You looked up, finding the nighttime sky. Your heart's heaviness lifted. Was it because you were looking at something like him?

At the same time as the voice in your ear, you both murmured, “Beautiful.”

The music died down, leaving you alone in the dark once more, the warmth of an imaginary touch leaving you in the night air. You smiled softly, “Thank you for the dance.”

“…It was my pleasure,” your dearest whispered.

Your nameless friend asked your name as a question, which was becoming quite common nowadays.

“Yes?” you asked as you began walking home.

“Your voice isn’t grating on the ear,” he spoke. “It’s, lovely.”

You chuckled, “That’s a first. Thank you. I hope you know that yours has always been a comfort to me.”

* * *

The bug, your elf, laughed, “Some of your actions, they confuse me.”

“Maybe that’s what makes me so interesting,” you joked. “Glad I keep you on your toes, oh great all-knowing one.”

“If I was all-knowing, then I wouldn’t be so thrown off by you,” he commented, your chat flowing more naturally, as it had before. “I feel as though you have an advantage over me.”

“Nope,” you said, jumping up to a small wall, balancing yourself on it. Walking along, you mapped out the constellations above your head, planning to show him a chart of them later. You could tell him the stories you knew of them, and maybe say they're on him too. “I still don’t know your name. Don’t know your past. Not to mention that for all I know, you might have a plot that somehow involves conquering my people.”

He hummed, “I still don’t understand you for all of that. What could possibly go on in your mind?”

You sat on the edge of a rock, looking out at the endless sky. “I’m a human, I’m fairly selfish.”

“From what I’ve witnessed, I doubt that.”

Guilt filled you. He was wrong, so very wrong.

* * *

“May I ask you a query?”

“You just did,” you said, knowing fully well he was frowning. “You’re kind of adorable when you frown, do you know that?”

“You haven’t seen me frown, not really, and you can’t see me frown now. I'm nowhere near you.”

Despite his words, you laughed as though he were right there with you instead of hearing the voice from the insect. “It’s in your voice, even when you aren’t talking, like how the stars shine in the ocean. The light lingers, and you can feel the memories, the emotions they leave. I wondered earlier if that story relates to you somehow now that I think about it. Wouldn’t doubt it, considering how long elves live.”

* * *

Your dearest was holding something back, unsure. His hands were trembling. You could see them even though the glass keeping you apart. It was so different from the day you met, and how he spoke to you. You said honestly, “…I trust you.”

He stilled, “What?”

“You’re trembling, did you know that?” you murmured. “You’re afraid of something, possibly someone. I won’t pretend to know what’s on your mind, but, I trust you, with all that I am." You had even told him your real name, the full one. It was nice to hear from him and to see on his lips as he spoke it. It was both strange and familiar. It just felt, right. "I don’t expect you to do the same with me, but please know I’m not going to run away. I, I hope I’m not the one you’re afraid of.”

His smile was bittersweet, “You don’t know who I am-”

“You adore music, you used to watch the sun rise and set as often as you could even if you were about to collapse,” you said abruptly, startling him. But you were the one who made him speechless. “You’re as much a scholar as you are a dreamer despite your semi-cynical nature. Your books, from what little Elvish I know, aren’t just nonfiction, but tomes of stories written by those who came before, some of which are children’s stories. You like simplicity, but can enjoy the details in any form of art. You’ve studied all kinds of magic, in various forms, and you don’t use it all for your own benefit." Your smirk brightened. "And you're a totally melodramatic goofball. Shall I go on?”

Your arms were folded, prepared to answer him for anything he might say. You could do this all day. He was conflicted, “What of my past? What of-?”

“Forgive me for being so bold, but are you a ghost?” He shook his head at your question. “Then why are you leaving yourself in the past as if you were?”

He said your name once more, pained. "There’s much I haven’t told you,” he murmured. “You don’t even know my name.”

“Okay then, you’re a startouch elf, which means you have, what, thousands of years to tell me about then?” you said. Alright, you couldn't help but feel a little jealous of that, but also saddened at the thought of his loneliness. Perhaps that was something the two of you shared. “And if you ask me how I know, I’ll be insulted. Sometimes I wonder if I’m the only one around here who bothers to read. I knew what different kinds of elves were out there, long before I met you.”

He was staring at you. “You, don’t care?”

You tilted your head, “I wouldn’t say that. I’m worried about how long you might have been in the mirror, for example, or how someone could possibly have put you in there, especially with what you know. They would’ve wanted you to be put in there, very badly. I am concerned a little about what you may or may not have done to warrant such a thing.”

You paused, unable to halt the bittersweet, upward turn of your lips. “But, there’s also a lot you don’t know about me. I’m not exactly innocent either, and we don’t have to be. We’re friends, and I’m going to help you.”

He was struggling with something and when you asked him what was wrong, he said, “I have not wanted to touch someone in this prison, as much as I wish for you now. I want to hold your hands because part of me thinks you’re an illusion. I want to hold you so that I can protect you in the ways that I should’ve been able to. I want to embrace you, thank you for the kindness you give me and…”

“And?” you asked confused, this time not ashamed of your blush.

You elven friend looked so afraid, pleading your name, "I want so badly to…”

He clenched his fists, unable to look you in the eye. You placed your hand on the mirror, and his flew to where yours would be if they were in the same world. “ _When_ you get out, we can do all of that, and more. I want to dance with you, I want to sit beside you as we watch the sun rise and set. I want to enjoy the little things with _you_.”

“...May I tell you my name?”

You spread your fingers with his. “Only if you want to. If you’re absolutely sure.”

He placed his head on the mirror, and you followed his lead, your other hand where his chest might be if the two of you really were together. You could’ve sworn you could feel his heart beat. You placed your head on the pulsing, hearing him gasp. It felt right, but it also hurt, being this close, but not being able to touch, to sense him properly.

He murmured your name once more, and you lifted your head, looking up at him. “I am Aaravos.”

Your eyes widened, and his worried voice shook you out of it. You chuckled, pressing your forehead against the mirror once more. “One of my parents was a storyteller, and I happen to like books, you know? It’s strange, many stories say that you disappeared mysteriously, or had been killed. I guess I have some idea of what happened now.”

He tensed, “You know me.”

“I knew _of_ you, but I don’t judge people on rumors,” you snorted, “Evidently, they’re quite unreliable. You're supposed to look a lot older, with much bigger cheekbones and black, soulless eyes, for example. I don't see any of that.”

Aaravos didn't comment on that last part. “So, you know some of my crimes.”

It wasn’t a question. “I know plausible ones. Stories tend to change, and their perspectives are flawed. For instance, I was in a fight once with a soldier. He claimed I attacked him, which is somewhat true as I threw the first punch, but the reason I did it was because, unlike you, ‘no’ didn’t appear to be in his vocabulary.”

You tried not to respond to his visceral reaction. “He was one of the best they said, and I was only attempting to taint his image according to them. At least he didn’t bother me after that. I think he doesn’t because I showed him that he wasn’t as great a fighter he claimed to be.”

“And if I’m the villain in every one of those stories, and they’re true,” he whispered. “What will you do then?”

You were already the villain in his story then, but you didn't dare say that. You were too selfish and afraid to. You were pathetic. “Pending on whether or not you’re still in here? If you're still here? I’ll keep on flicking the mirror to irritate the crap of you.”

There was your favorite smile.

* * *

“Once upon a time, there was a man. There wasn’t anything notable about him, except for the fact that he was deeply in love with his wife. One day, they were filled with joy upon learning she was with child, and the next she was ill, and not getting better.

“The man was desperate and searched a cure, the kind to save her and their child. He said he was willing to pay anything. He learned of a spell from ancient magic that could save them, but it required taking the lifetimes of two others. So, wishing for them to live long and happily, even if it was without him, he searched for the healthiest of souls,” you murmured, lightly playing your stringed instrument, allowing the tune to better convey the emotion and intensity of what the characters were feeling.

Aaravos was watching from his side of the mirror, entranced, but you weren't entirely sure if it was from the story alone. You hoped it was.

“Few had what he wanted, and he realized should he take lives in his homeland, there would be grave repercussions, fearing he and his loved ones would not be able to escape anywhere without being tracked down. So, he reasoned with himself that if it was the death of those _not_ in his homeland, he and his family could just move elsewhere, and live in safety. So, he hunted down two elves, a parent and child who were not so different from his own family. He hesitated, but enacted the spell, telling himself that his loved ones were worth any cost."

Your elven friend was obviously disconcerted, but he appeared thoughtful as he listened.

“His wife never learned what he did, and he never told his daughter, who was born with gifts not her own. They traveled far, away from the land where the elves lived, unaware that the family, too, had someone willing to do anything to attain their goals, and they yearned for revenge."

Your stars and heart grimaced, "Were they moonshadow elves, perchance?"

You only shrugged, trying to pretend it didn't matter. You didn't want for him to read too much into the tale. “It was years later, when the babe had grown into a child, and the woman was with her, farming, that an elf appeared. Having taken a vow to take two lives from the man as the murderer had him, he killed the wife first, only to discover that both ribbons had fallen off after doing so.”

The underlying meaning was clear. The woman had been pregnant, and the elf didn't know. 

"So, it _was_ a moonshadow elf."

Shrugging again, you said, honestly, "Hey, a lot's been lost in our knowledge of the elves. I just know that moonshadow elves are skilled assassins, and they aren't easily stopped in moonlight, if at all." He looked like he doubted it, so you said, "I do my best not to lie, Aaravos, and I'll always continue that effort."

There was a moment before he said something that made your heart flutter more heavily than usual. It was also more painful than usual as you looked him in the eye as he spoke, "I trust you."

You wished he didn't. Not commenting on his words, you refocused on the story. “Before him was the child, trying to wake up her mother, too young to understand what death was. She asked for the elf to help, and instead, he placed a curse on her and her descendants, that all of the firstborns would suffer a terrible end, all in agony,” you said, missing a note on your tune.

Swallowing, you desperately tried not to show anything. “Years later, once the girl had grown into a woman and birthed her child, she was sailing with her own beloved, her child with them as she showed them the beauty of the waters, telling them stories every day and night. A storm drowned the parents, and the child barely survived. They learned from their grandfather what he had done. Angry and confused, the child lashed out, understanding too late that they had part of the magic in them that their parent had. Their grandfather died by their hand, and the child was taken in by their relatives."

Keeping your voice steady, you said, “All in the bloodline of firstborns did exactly as the elf had cursed them for. The grandchild was burned alive, another died slowly from a plague, and another froze in a river, calling out for help where no one could no matter how much they tried. Some of these firstborns died in adulthood, others in childhood. Some were killed early on in their life by their loved ones, as a mercy to spare them from suffering.”

Aaravos' expression showed conflict and slight sorrow, “And how does it end?”

You looked at him, trying to find the answer best to give him, “It still hasn’t. Last time I saw them, only a small number were left, the rest dead by illness, murder, or consumed by beasts of all kind. Their firstborn had just asked their parents to end their life, and wanted to be buried by the sea.”

If he was surprised that the story was true, he didn't show it. “Were they angry at the elves?”

You scoffed, trying to keep yourself from laughing bitterly, “No, in fact, that child wanted to meet them, and apologize for the bloodshed and lives lost not just by their family, but by humans overall. The child's parent told me that an elf’s life lasts for at least a century naturally, so because their family had been cursed for that long, then they’d paid for at least one of the lives taken, but still had yet to pay for the other.”

He scowled, “Why not ask the elves for aid?”

“I asked the same thing when I was a child, and I was told that because of the border between Xadia and the five kingdoms, for fear of causing further bloodshed, they didn’t dare. That they were lucky their ancestor hadn’t started a war by his foolishness. And, the elf who had cast it was dead, and those related to him would likely never remove the curse, even if they could meet without causing a war.”

That, and some of them didn't want others', elf or human, to pay for their family's choices that led to this. Maybe you shouldn't stay near Aaravos at all.

Feeling exhausted, you decided that you really needed to ask Claudia for that hot brown morning potion again.

* * *

In the months following, you talked with Aaravos about so much. You talked of little things, memories, and showed him as much of the world that you could so that he would be freer than you were. He provided comfort you had only asked for once time, and time again. Yet, with every moment, it hurt that the two of you could never touch. He could speak to you from afar, create spells to give the ghost of something to hold you, dance with you, and once, you wondered if he had kissed you.

You hoped he hadn't done that last one. It would hurt both of you too much.

More than once you offered to help him break free, truly give him the world, but he looked pained when you did so, saying it required a price he wasn't willing to risk on you. You fought with him last time you saw him, your desperation becoming more evident. You insisted a few times, but all he said was, "Your life is short, and I want to spend it with you."

You did too, even if for only for a few seconds, but you doubted you'd ever get the chance. 

He said it was unfair that you gave him the world, and you got little in return. He didn't know that he'd given you so much more.

...You would miss him, more than he'd ever know.

* * *

Aaravos felt something tear inside him, and he sat up, gasping at the pain in his chest. Something was wrong, horribly wrong. Racing over to the mirror, he searched through his mirror. Finding nothing wrong with his newly formed connection to Viren, his stomach dropped, and with a trembling hand, he searched for you. The two of you had fought about freeing him again, and more than a few words shouldn't have been said. He was going to apologize, and he wanted to explain everything. Maybe then, you'd understand.

The reflection pool changed as the worm moved, its vision fading in and out. He could barely hear you, but what he could hear, was pained breathing, and coughing.

There was someone speaking. “Poor child…Cursed…Caught up…Years…Last of kin.”

“ - family dies with them.”

He enhanced his magic, increasing the bond to listen, desperate to understand. His chest tightened, fear racing through him as another tremor passed.

“Last of the line though. It's just, tis a pity it's so slow and so…I can’t imagine.”

They all froze when there was more coughing, and through the worm, Aaravos saw the blood on the sheets. You'd been covering it all up. You had been hiding your illness from him. Why? Why would you hide it from him if he might be able to cure it? What if he could help you? He asked how he could serve you after all. Did you really think he wouldn’t help you? Didn't you trust him?

Your skin, it was so pale.

One of the elders began crying, “I’m sorry, I can’t stay.”

They left, another taking your hand and brushing back some of your hair, revealing the dark shadows under your eyes. You had been excusing them as not getting enough sleep, being exhausted from work. You had been telling him so many things, telling him not to be worried, that it was normal for you. You said you did your best not to lie, but you had hidden so much from him. Why? Why?!

“Please, child, we could get you something. We could try another healer? Is there anyone you wish to-?”

Please, please say something. There was hesitance in your eyes, a longing in your tears. The shine that entranced him was dimming and his heart fell. “He won't want me anymore…It’s for the best he doesn’t…He’ll be happier this w-way.”

The healers didn't understand, but you just smiled as you always did around him. Everything began to fall apart as the worm’s vision began blurring once more. Wait, that wasn’t the worm’s, or yours, it was his. Aaravos, he, he was crying and…No, he had to tell you. He had to tell you he wanted you. He had to tell you that he didn’t want you to leave. He had to tell you he really did care. He had to tell you he loved your smile, the way you danced with him, how calming your voice was, how your endearing laugh was and how much he looked forward to every, single day with you and…

He loved you. Stars above help him, but he loved you, and he was watching you die. He was trapped, unable to do anything, and you were dying. The last thing he told you was for you to leave him in his anger. He thought you'd come back anyway. It was just as he'd believed Viren's curiosity would get the best of him, that something he didn't completely understand would with you. But you weren't Viren or any other human he encountered at all. You had no idea what he truly thought of you, and you thought he didn’t want you anymore. You were dying and-

Your breathing was stuttering. Aaravos found himself leaping against the mirror's barrier, pounding his fists against it, crying out your name, begging for you not to close your eyes. He rushed to his books, trying to find anything, anything that would free him, thinking of anything that he could do to spare your life.

Symptoms. What were your symptoms? How much had you hidden from him? He thought of every moment you hadn’t looked well, of every detail he learned about your past. Anything he could do as he watched you die. Please, you had to know he was there. Please, don’t-

The worm’s vision ended, leaving him in the dark, and something severed inside. It wasn’t a painful feeling, not at first, just, empty.

Stars, did he want to feel something though. Tears fell, and he screamed in agony, cracking the stone floor beneath him.

He cursed the world for all it had taken from him. He cursed his cage. And, he cursed himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Never said how he curses.
> 
> EDIT
> 
> 12/11/2019 - Hey everybody, a group and I had a research project for a few classes that involves a survey. We needed a larger sample size. I'm happy to say that we got more than enough responses for the project and I just wanted to thank everyone for helping out.
> 
> If you want to check out the results, here's the link: https://www.surveymonkey.com/results/SM-5ZFXQ8JS7/
> 
> Thank you!


End file.
